


what happened in that brief moment?

by laurensintheplacetobe (shadowattack)



Series: the "what" series [4]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Spoilers, no beta we die like tommyinnit, technically i was fighting my sleeping meds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29795076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowattack/pseuds/laurensintheplacetobe
Summary: Sam never thought about how cold the cell could get. He always assumed the lava would actually keep it too hot, but now, through his enchanted Netherite, he could feel the otherworldly chill of the black obsidian. Purple liquid drips from the crying obsidian variant, hitting Tommy’s face and trailing down the side of his nose as if it were a tear. Sam pulls his cape over the boy’s head.
Series: the "what" series [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977634
Kudos: 25





	what happened in that brief moment?

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so surprise im back bitches.
> 
> i was going to go to sleep because I have therapy tomorrow and then I got the mental image of sam discovering tommy's body in the cell and was like, oh okay well shit
> 
> there's probably some mistakes. sorry. will I edit it later? no. i wont remember tbh.
> 
> anyways enjoy

It’d been days since he’d gone to check on Tommy and Dream. He and the rest of the guards didn’t really have to worry about food, as the dispensers were timed to release the uncooked spuds twice a day. All they had to do was make sure that there was food in the system.   
  
Sam was a different person when he stepped foot into his masterpiece: Pandora’s Vault. Months of mining and building, hands caked red with blood and redstone dust. Bones weary with fatigue when he was finally able to install the Elder Guardian. Building the prison took so much out of him that he had to equip his gas mask with an additional supply of oxygen (lungs beginning to popcorn from the fine redstone powder and the extra strain of having to breathe even though his body felt fifty times heavier. Yet he still couldn’t be prouder).   
  
He still hasn’t found out the source of the explosion, nor if there was any damage caused. Some basic redstone wasn’t working while he toured Antfrost and Bad around, but it wasn’t something that an outside explosion should’ve caused. Maybe it was some weak redstone lines. Checking up on Tommy was the lowest priority during that self-chaotic time. But now, after the fact, he should’ve come sooner.

Despite yards of lava separating them, the comms from the high security cell still gave the Warden an idea of what was going on.

The quick visit— him explaining to a pleading, manic Tommy and an eerily silent Dream— replays over and over in his mind. What happened in that brief moment when Sam had turned his back, had left to check the perimeters for mobs? What had caused Dream to do what he said? Tommy is—  _ was,  _ annoying, but they had managed so far. What happened, for the chilling ping of  _ TommyInnit was slain for the final time by Dream _ to wake the global chat. Sam’s body went cold.

He wishes desperately for a different memory to replace the current one of the dead boy in his mind. Sam, though the Warden and cool within his build, couldn’t bear the insane and desperate ramblings that are now echoing in his head.   
  
That thought was better than the present.

At the message, Sam had run through the guard hallways as fast as he could, willed the lava to fall  _ faster, come  _ **_on,_ ** crossing the barely-receded chasm to find Dream and the crumpled body of Tommy. Suddenly, the boy, the boy who had gone through war after war, rebellion and betrayal, exile and victory, was just a boy. A dead boy.

Dream didn’t say anything. Sam didn’t even give him a chance; as soon as the man had looked up from being hunched over Tommy’s body, the Warden knocked his elbow hard into the prisoner’s face that he fell to the ground, knocked out cold.

“God, Tommy,” Sam croaked, struggling to look at the boy’s face.  _ When had he gotten this skinny _ —  **_oh God,_ ** _ I did that.  _ The Warden removes his dark green cape to wrap it around Tommy.  _ He’s cold. Colder than he should be. _

Sam never thought about how cold the cell could get. He always assumed the lava would actually keep it  _ too  _ hot, but now, through his enchanted Netherite, he could feel the otherworldly chill of the black obsidian. Purple liquid drips from the crying obsidian variant, hitting Tommy’s face and trailing down the side of his nose as if it were a tear. Sam pulls his cape over the boy’s head.

He doesn’t clean up the blood in the cell. He doesn’t have the supplies for it, besides, he doubts he can stomach it right this moment.

There are voices calling from outside the prison, Sam hears, when he makes it to the main lobby. His body aches at the  dead extra weight in his arms. He’s cursing the very creature that keeps this place so secure. By the time he’s through the first portal and out the second, tears are streaming down his face. In his arms, Tommy lays limp, head nudging its way from the green cocoon to droop backward. Moonlight expresses just how pale he was. The blood at the corner of his lips was already turning brown. His feet dangle lifelessly over Sam’s arm.

The owners of the voices are screaming, rushing to the two, but the Warden isn’t listening. He’s still stuck on how young and  _ tired  _ Tommy looks.

Hands tugging on Sam’s wrapped cape finally pulls his attention back to the people in front of him. Tubbo is there, screaming, pleading for his best friend to not be dead.  _ How can he hear you, Tubbo? Tommy can’t come back. He  _ **_is_ ** _ dead.  _ Jack Manifold stands a little further back, eyes wide. Tears are in his eyes but they don’t fall. The young man looks baffled as if he couldn’t believe that Tommy was dead. But the weight in Sam’s arms was proof enough.

Sam kneels slowly, doing his best not to jostle the body in his arms and the boy clinging to it. Tommy lays in the dirt, red and white shirt obscured by Sam’s cape, but Tubbo’s too busy grieving to care that his friend’s signature shirt is stained with blood and sweat and potato crumbs. The Warden doesn’t stand from his kneeling position.

He’s no longer thinking about what happened in the cell. Or if the monster he left behind is awake or not, or that he still doesn’t know what caused the explosion. His mind is focused on Tommy, and what he could have done.

**Author's Note:**

> "i'm working on my tenses" i say as I flip between past and present


End file.
